


stealing postcards from a plane crash (wish you were here)

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Another warm-up fic, Everyone Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Character Death, You can pinpoint the exact moment that my heart snapped in two whilst writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rain pelts down in an ear-splitting cacophony atop the roof of an AT-TE that trudges through the rotting quagmires of Datton XII. A girl stands inside it, bundled within the coarse fabric of a robe far-too-big that lays draped across her narrow shoulders. She rocks with every swaying movement, keeping her hands clutched tightly around the walker’s lever until her knuckles become white. Bronze, flashing, is a bitter reminder that the machinery is running on fumes. Not much longer now she thinks, reaching at the request of the pilot who occupies the seat beside her to flick a switch above her head. Behind her, amid stacks of empty supply crates and wounded soldiers kneels her captain, helpless as another brother dies in his arms.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	stealing postcards from a plane crash (wish you were here)

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with another warm-up that i became too attached to and couldn’t let rot in my drafts! to be honest, i’m not entirely sure what this is, but it made me sad and i love to suffer.

SPEAK TO THE LORD FOR OUR COMRADES, KILLED WHEN THE BATTLE SEEMED LOST. THEY WENT TO MEET A BRIGHT DEFEAT— THE HERO’S HOLOCAUST.

“We have to get out of here, commander!” The clone captain bellows, voice ragged and hoarse from hours- if not days of disuse, other than to shout orders or scream the names of his fallen _vod’e_. Their bodies are littered on the ground around him, some mangled, twisted, _horrid_ and covered in blood. Others, plaintive, as if they have merely closed their eyes and laid down to rest. The man fires a shot from his rifle, and curses under his breath when the trigger clicks. He slams it against his thigh, which ejects the energy cartridge so he can replace it with another. But when he goes to do it, his belt is empty. He’s out of ammunition. To his right, his general’s padawan deflects bolt after bolt with her lightsabers, followed by the unmistakable sound of the blade cutting through the cold metal of several battle droids. The captain lets out a shout when an explosion tears up the earth right before his feet, sending a plume of smoke and debris clouding his vision. The mud splatters in every direction on the detonator’s impact, which only makes everything _worse_ and renders Rex’s HUD useless. He fumbles with the switch on his helmet until it shuts off, and dives out of the path of an incoming blaster shot to pick up a new weapon. His gut twists at the thought of prying one out of his _vod’s_ hand, although it makes no difference now. It’s not like he’s going to need it.

“Rex!” The padawan’s voice cracks through his comm channel. “Do you see a way out? I can’t-“ she halts, breath hitching as she cuts through another droid. “I can’t hold them off any longer. We need to get out, _now_!”

Rex swears again, and can almost hear Cody’s disapproving tone. _Don’t swear in front of the Jetii’ika, di’kut_. He unceremoniously slaps the button on his wrist communicator, and it flickers to life with a green light. “Kix! Kix, you still there?”

The medic takes a few moments to reply, but when he does, Rex lets out a heavy breath of relief that he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Sir, I could really use a casevac right about now! The aid station is-“ he breaks off. “The aid station is overrun. We had to move the wounded back behind the ridge, I’m not sure how much longer we can wait-“

“ _You’re going to have to_!” Rex barks. He grunts, throwing a kick to the chest-plate of an incoming droid and puts a shot through its head before it has the chance to hit the ground.

_It almost seems funny, now, to think back on how ignorant he had been_.

* * *

Rain pelts down in an ear-splitting cacophony atop the roof of an AT-TE that trudges through the rotting quagmires of Datton XII. A girl stands inside it, bundled within the coarse fabric of a robe far-too-big that lays draped across her narrow shoulders. She rocks with every swaying movement, keeping her hands clutched tightly around the walker’s lever until her knuckles become white. Bronze, flashing, is a bitter reminder that the machinery is running on fumes. _Not much longer now_ she thinks, reaching at the request of the pilot who occupies the seat beside her to flick a switch above her head. Behind her, amid stacks of empty supply crates and wounded soldiers kneels her captain, helpless as another brother dies in his arms.

This is all that remains of her squad. Rex, the only _real_ adult- a handful of fresh-faced clones, and a padawan. Her shoto lightsaber swings on her belt, the other lost- she realizes that she’s crying, and the tears haven’t ceased since… _since_ \- The AT-TE grinds to a halt, groaning low as it finally sinks into the mud. The pilot’s hands fall slack, dropping into his lap as his shoulders sag with defeat. _Defeat_. _Failure_. Ahsoka can barely register as her captain pries her hands lose from the backrest of the vacant co-pilot’s chair, and wraps them within his own. His helmet is gone, discarded during the battle. An ugly cut twists up the side of his face, barely held together with stitches and a growing scab. It looks painful. Dried blood is crusted to his skin. His mouth is moving, he’s saying something to her, but Ahsoka can’t hear him. She can’t hear for her own strangled sob that wracks her aching body as she crumbles into Rex’s arms.

The force is silent. She calls out to it, desperate, but it shuts her out. This _place_ is shutting her out, and she’s suffocating. Rex says her name- it’s far away, but he cups her face and forces her to meet his eyes. They’re glassy, rimmed with exhaustion and a layer of grime, but they’re determined. _I’ve got you, kid_ he mouths, as he helps Ahsoka back her feet. _When did she fall down?_ The men are leaving the AT-TE, taking what’s left of their company and stretchers that carry the bodies they couldn’t bury. _We can’t leave them here_. A lump catches in Ahsoka’s throat. Rex wraps the oversized cloak tighter around her thin frame and holds her body close to his own as they step into the storm together. In the distance, the gunships pierce through the fog-socked horizons, but she hasn’t the heart to rejoice.

None of them do.

_“It’s not your fault, Ahsoka.”_

* * *

Ahsoka’s face is hard. Unwavering. She doesn’t cry, not this time. Not with the council watching. It's all Ahsoka can do not to break, to _shatter_ , but she has to be strong. For her men. For Rex, and Jesse, and Kix. For _Fives, and Echo-_

“I brought them home, Master.” She says flatly, though the words don’t feel like her own. It’s like she’s on autopilot, watching herself without really being _here_. She doesn’t know when Anakin’s hands came to rest on her shoulders, or when he wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace. Her lip starts to tremble, so she bites down on it. Her hands begin to shake, so she curls them into fists when Anakin whispers something to her and guides her into the temple. She wants to stay with Rex- she can’t leave him, and she begins to panic- before realizing that the men are following her into the temple.

Ahsoka doesn’t cry.

She doesn’t cry until she’s sent to the Resolute’s med-bay with a broken hand and bruised knuckles, stuck with bits of glass from shattering a mirror for reasons she can’t understand. Anakin doesn’t reprimand her for being reckless, or putting herself in danger, or for being _afraid_. He _never_ does. Kix holds her hands- gently, almost as if he touches her she’ll shatter. She watches numbly as the medic swathes the open wounds with strips of bacta, and feels the tear roll off the man’s cheek and onto her skin.

Ahsoka cries, then, and doesn’t stop until she’s gasping for air and feels the dull creep off a sedative clouding her vision.

_I’ve got you, kid_ Kix says, wavering in spite of his facade as he chokes up, before everything goes dark.


End file.
